Tag Archives: love

What is sin, according to Jesus?

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Ferdinand Hodler, The Good Samaritan

Those of us who strive for a radically Jesus-centred approach to Christian faith and life can sometimes seem to be “soft on sin.” After all, following Jesus in the Gospels, we focus on his positive calls to love God by loving others, to show mercy, to forgive, to do good to our enemies, and so on. (It’s no coincidence that Jesus was also thought to be “soft on sin” in some ways.)

We also lean into Jesus’ command not to judge others. However, that command isn’t a blanket call to avoid discernment related to sin. Matthew’s version goes on to say that once we have taken the log of great sin out of our own eye we can help our neighbour remove the speck of small sin in their eye. And Jesus does call us to beware of false teachers, discerning them by the bad fruit of their teaching and their behaviour—their sin, and the sin their teaching produces in others.

Most significantly, Jesus himself was not afraid to speak out against sin. But it’s important then, for those of us who strive to follow Jesus, to ask the question: what exactly did Jesus consider to be sin? Put another way: what kinds of ways of thinking and speaking and acting did Jesus critique?

Here’s a selection of sins, according to Jesus:

Many of these, I would suggest, fall under a general umbrella: abusing one’s power—including religious power—to cause harm to those who are relatively powerless.

That’s certainly a focus of his critiques of the wealthy and religious leaders. Through their wealth or their status, they have power over others, and instead of using their power for the good of others they are using their power to harm others, or at least not to help them. Many other sins in the list above, though—including his critiques of lust and divorce, even withholding mercy and forgiveness—are also about people having a kind of power over others, and using that power to harm, or not using that power to help, those without that power.

Related to this, it’s worth noting that Jesus never called out the sins of those without power or those vulnerable to harm. These people—those considered “the least” or “the last” or “the little ones” in society, those considered “lost,” even those considered “sinners,” condemned by the religiously powerful for not measuring up—these people Jesus sought out, he welcomed in, he shared meals with, he loved. This doesn’t mean he ignored their sin—he called sinners of all kinds to repentance—but we never see him publicly calling them out for their sin. Most of them we don’t even know what their sins were.

What does all this suggest related to how we as Jesus-followers should understand sin?

Sin is the opposite of love; sin is that which is not-love.

Love, according to Jesus’ teaching, is meeting the real-life needs of others as if their needs were our own—our neighbours, those different from us, strangers to us, even enemies of us. Love, according to the example of Jesus, is giving oneself for the good of others, even walking in solidarity with the powerless, even if it means great self-sacrifice.

Sin, then, is the opposite of this love. It is causing real-world harm to our neighbours, through our attitudes, words, actions—or even inaction. In this Paul was exactly right when he said that “Love does no harm to a neighbour; therefore love is the fulfillment of the Law” (Rom 13:10).

And the sins we need especially to pay attention to are those where people with some kind of power over others—through their wealth, their status, their influence, their gender, their race, whatever it may be—use their power to harm those without that power, or do not use their power to help those without that power. It’s for this reason that radically Jesus-centred Christians are known for pursuing social justice and economic justice, even seeing this as what Jesus meant when he said, “Seek first God’s reign and God’s justice” (Matt 6:33).

It’s worth noting that some of Jesus’ strongest critiques were for those who used their religion to justify their abuse of power over others, for causing harm to those most vulnerable in society—economically exploiting them in the service of religion, creating barriers for them in coming to God, refusing to show mercy to them on the basis of religion. May we who are religious—especially those claiming to be Christians—take this warning to heart.

A Brief Commentary on Colossians

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Rembrandt van Rijn, Saint Paul

Over the past few weeks I’ve been teaching an online course on Paul’s letter to the Colossians. As we’ve gone through the letter, I’ve also been noting on social media some insights gained from studying Colossians. It occurred to me at some point that these form a kind of short-hand commentary on the letter. Here are those social media posts, making for A Brief Commentary on Colossians.

Scholars debate whether Paul actually wrote Colossians (Col 1:1), mostly on theological grounds. Pseudonymous writings were known in the ancient world, a devoted disciple writing in their mentor’s name.

I have doubts about other Pauline letters, but I believe Paul directly authorized Colossians.

Colossians—like most of Paul’s letters—begins with an extended prayer (Col 1:3ff.). Typically these prayers merge into a theologically rich section, which forms the basis for practical exhortations.

A helpful pattern: prayerful theologizing lived out practically. Faith lived out in love.

“God-Lord-Spirit” (e.g. Col 1:3-8) is Paul’s incipient trinitarianism—not the full-blown version of later orthodoxy, but a helpful triad for describing God and God’s work in the world.

God the Father works through our Lord Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit. We come to God through Jesus by the Spirit.

“Faith-Hope-Love” (e.g. Col 1:3-5) is Paul’s triad of core Christian virtues.

“Faith” = trust in God + allegiance to God’s ways

“Hope” = future-focused faith, grounded in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead

“Love” = love in the way of Jesus: self-giving, other-lifting, compassion-in-action

Paul’s prayers (e.g. Col 1:3ff.) are saturated with gratitude. Joyful thanksgiving is a hallmark of Christian prayer.

Yes, we also lament—and so did Paul. But more often than not, our prayers should be marked by humble, joy-filled gratitude for the people in our lives and all that God has given us.

“The word of truth” in Col 1:5 is not the Bible. It’s “the gospel,” the text says, the orally proclaimed message about Jesus. This is true of nearly all “word of x” language in the NT, including “word of God.”

The story of Jesus is God’s good-news word to the world. The Bible bears witness to this.

The fruit of the gospel, the fruit of the Spirit’s work in response to the good news about Jesus, is faith, hope, and love in the way of Jesus (Col 1:3-8).

The seed of the word is planted in the soil of our hearts, and if the soil is good it bears much fruit (Mark 4:20).

Four common themes in Paul’s prayers (e.g. Col 1:3ff.):
1) Gratitude for the other, for their faith, hope, and/or love.
2) For the knowledge of God’s will to be fruitful in doing God’s will.
3) For strength to endure hardships with joyful thanksgiving.
4) For growth in love for one another.

What’s in our prayers?

“From the day you heard the gospel and truly comprehended the grace of God” (Col 1:6).

What a wonderful description of a come-to-Jesus moment! Hearing the good-news story of Jesus and fully grasping the amazing grace of God—and being utterly transformed in the encounter.

Paul makes much of his “co-workers” like Epaphras (Col 1:7), faithful men and women who shared with Paul in bringing the good news of Jesus to the world. Contrary to our imagined lone-ranger image of Paul (like Rembrandt’s famous painting, above), he depended on others, working in community.

Knowledge of God and God’s will is never given by God so we can appear clever or wise in the eyes of others. These are given by God to make us fruitful in good works, the works of faith and hope and love—works which are often unseen by others (Col 1:9-10).

God has “rescued us from the power of shadows and transferred us into the kingdom of God’s beloved Son” (Col 1:14).

In other words, we’ve experienced a profound change in lordship: formerly slaves to evil powers, now committed followers of Jesus and his way of love leading to justice and peace.

Col 1:15-20 is highly poetic, and may be from an early Christian hymn (see also 1 Cor 8:6 and Phil 2:6-11). I love the idea of early Jesus-followers gathering in Ephesus or Colossae, their croaky dawn voices singing off-key, “Praise be Jesus the Christ, the image of the invisible God…”

Jesus is “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15). No one has ever seen God in God’s fullness, but when we look to Jesus we see God as God is—faithful, compassionate, merciful, working through weakness, walking in love.

We are created in the image of God (Gen 1:27)—Jesus *is* the image of God (Col 1:15).

This means we who follow Jesus are being re-created in the image of Jesus (Col 3:10-11)—becoming more and more like him in his way of being, his way of living in the world.

Jesus— “all things have been created through him and for him” (Col 1:16). Jesus is the embodiment of divine wisdom, through which God created and sustains all things (Prov 8:22-31). If we want to know what divine wisdom looks like, look to Jesus: pure, peaceable, gentle, merciful… (Jas 3:17).

For the Apostle Paul, the powers of this world are both “visible and invisible” (Col 1:16)—material and spiritual, human and non-human, personal and impersonal. They are humans with power. They are powerful systems and structures. They are the spirit that animates and compels these powers.

The powers of this world—human, systemic, spiritual—were created by God (Col 1:16). When good, we are called to participate with them, using power to serve. When evil, we are called to resist them, nonviolently. Either way, we trust in God’s ultimate reconciliation of these powers (Col 1:20).

Jesus is “the head of the body, the church” (Col 1:18). He is the source of the church’s life, the guiding authority over the church. The church is called to live out the life of Jesus, to continue his reconciling mission in the world (Luke 4:18-19; 19:10; Acts 10:36).

Jesus is both the “firstborn of all creation” and the “firstborn from the dead” (Col 1:15, 18). “Firstborn” is not emphasizing his origins, but his status—in both God’s original creation and God’s new creation, Jesus is Lord, having “first place in everything.”

In Jesus “all the fullness (of God) dwells” (Col 1:19). Everything that is God is found in Jesus. All God’s transcendence-in-immanence, all God’s power-in-weakness, all God’s majesty-in-humility, all God’s sovereignty-in-service, all God’s holiness-in-mercy, all God’s faithfulness-in-love.

Through Jesus “God was pleased to reconcile to God’s self all things” (Col 1:20). This was Jesus’ mission, and he continues this mission through the church and by God’s Spirit in the world. All things—every person, everything in creation—will be renewed, brought to wholeness and harmony!

In Jesus God has reconciled all things, “making peace through the blood of his cross” (Col 1:20). This isn’t penal substitutionary atonement—it’s Christus victor, Jesus through his bloody crucifixion at the hands of the world’s powers disarming these powers and triumphing over them (Col 2:14-15).

Paul uses strong language to describe the way Gentiles live: “hostile in mind, doing evil deeds” (Col 1:21). There’s surely hyperbole here, common early Jewish rhetoric, but it highlights a reality for all of us: we all have habits of harm which can enslave us, from which we need to be liberated.

We who are in Christ are “holy and blameless and irreproachable”—as long as we “continue securely established and steadfast in the faith” (Col 1:22-23). Throughout the NT Christian faith is portrayed as an ongoing journey, growing in our trust in God and our commitment to Jesus’ way of love.

In what sense has the gospel already “been proclaimed to every creature under heaven” (Col 1:23)? Through Jesus’ resurrection from the dead and his exaltation to God’s right hand: these are God’s public declaration of the defeat of sin and death, and of Jesus as Lord over all evil powers.

If “the gospel has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven” (Col 1:23) then all God’s creatures can proclaim the good news back to us—if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

“God was pleased to reconcile to God’s self all things”; the gospel “has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven” (Col 1:20, 23). The good-news story of Jesus has profound implications for everything God has created, and we as Christians are called to live into the restoration of creation.

Paul on his sufferings: “In my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col 1:24). This is not that Jesus didn’t suffer enough on the cross; it’s that our co-suffering love with and for others is an extension of Jesus’ co-suffering love with and for the world.

Paul is realistic about physical suffering: he calls it a “groaning” with creation and the Spirit, even a “messenger of Satan” (Rom 8; 2 Cor 12). Yet Paul chooses to rejoice in suffering (e.g. Col 1:24) because, even though it’s not from God, God can work through it to bring about God’s good purpose (Rom 8:28-30).

For Paul “the word of God” is not the Bible—it’s the gospel, the good-news story of Jesus. In Col 1:25 it’s specifically the good news that this gospel brings to Gentiles: the “mystery” of how, through Jesus, God has brought us into the people of God, widening the circle of God’s saving mercy.

“Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col 1:27)—a Pauline gospel summary. We who are “in Christ” have Christ “in us,” Christ’s very Spirit. This gives us “the hope of glory”—the assurance that one day we will fully reflect Christ’s glory, the fullness of Jesus’ character, as children of God (Rom 8).

“So that we may present everyone mature in Christ” (Col 1:28)—this is Paul’s ministry goal for individual people. Being increasingly shaped into the image of Christ, the character of Jesus—his way of faith, his way of love.

“I want their hearts to be encouraged and united in love” (Col 2:2)—this is Paul’s ministry goal for communities of faith. “Encouraging” them—building them up—so that they are “united in love”—not united in particular beliefs, but in following Jesus’ way of love.

In Jesus Christ “are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col 2:3). This doesn’t mean there is no knowledge outside of Christ. Rather, it means that in Christ we find the wisdom and knowledge that most matters in life—how to live a life of faith, hope, and love.

“Though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit” (Col 2:5). We’ve all experienced this, the sense of being with someone in spirit even when we can’t be there in person. Paul’s words, though, hold an ambiguity that deepens this for fellow Christians—”I am with you in spirit/the Spirit.”

“Christ Jesus the Lord” (Col 2:6)—two early Christian confessions rolled into one.

Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the one who brings about God’s reign of justice and peace and life on earth.

Jesus is Lord, the one who holds our ultimate allegiance, above all other powers of this age.

As Christians we “receive” Jesus as Christ and Lord (Col 2:6)—we gladly welcome him as Christ and Lord, and we learn the traditional Christian teaching about him as Christ and Lord.

This is the same way in which we continue to “walk” in Jesus—as our Messiah and our Lord.

The Christian life is “walking in Jesus” as Christ and Lord—walking with Jesus, walking in his way of life (Col 2:6). We never get beyond this—spiritual maturity is about walking more closely with Jesus, more closely reflecting his character, his motives, his desires.

No, Paul is not against “philosophy” in general (Col 2:8)—he shows evidence of being familiar with, and using, some of the philosophy of his day. Here he’s probably speaking against a kind of “sophistry,” using clever but false arguments, or beautifully sounding but ultimately meaningless rhetoric.

“In Jesus the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily” (Col 2:9). Everything that God is, is found in Jesus. All God’s transcendence-in-immanence, all God’s power-in-weakness, all God’s majesty-in-humility, all God’s sovereignty-in-service, all God’s holiness-in-mercy, all God’s faithfulness-in-love.

For the Apostle Paul, Christians are those who have been crucified with Jesus (dying to our self-focused desires), buried with him (symbolized in baptism), and raised from the dead with him (sharing in his life of faith, hope, and love) (Col 2:12).

In Christ God has “forgiven us all our trespasses” (Col 2:13). This might seem irresponsible of God, not keeping us accountable. But God has also given us God’s Spirit, who works in us a life of repentance from our habits of harm, and a life of faith and love in the way of Jesus.

In crucifying Jesus the powers-that-be thought they were disarming Jesus, publicly humiliating him, triumphing over him. In a surprising twist, however, through the cross—stamped with the approval of his resurrection by God—Jesus has actually done these things to the powers of this age (Col 2:15).

Paul never denounces Jews for keeping kosher or observing Sabbath—he himself was an observant Jew. Rather, his point in Col 2 etc. is that Gentiles do not need to become Jews in order to be part of the messianic people of God—for both Jewish and Gentile Christians, the “fullness” is found in Jesus.

For Paul, the “world” and the “flesh” (e.g. Col 2:20-23) are the collective and individual manifestations respectively of living a self-focused life not centered on Jesus’ way of faith, hope, and love. In their extremes, they can reflect either rigid rule-keeping or wild self-indulgence.

Christians often equate “worldly” with selfish indulgence or rampant immorality. But in Col 2:20-23 Paul describes rigid rule-keeping as equally “of the world.” Legalism is just as worldly as licentiousness. The way of Jesus is neither of these extremes.

It’s something fundamentalisms don’t get: a way of life based on prohibitions cannot actually bring about holiness. This has “an appearance of wisdom” but it fails to deal with the root of the problem: our deeply ingrained habits of harm (Col 2:20-23). We need the Spirit. We need Jesus’ way of love.

For Paul, heaven is not a place we go after we die; it is the realm of God now, where God is most fully present (“the things above,” Col 3:1). In Christian eschatology, heaven comes down to earth; we long for God’s reign to come on earth as it is in heaven—and one day it will (Matt 6:10; Rev 21-22).

Don’t get me wrong. Paul does speak about “life after death,” but it’s not about being “in heaven.” It’s about being “with Christ” (Phil 1:23), “with the Lord” (2 Cor 5:8)—with Jesus. The ultimate goal is the resurrection of the body, living within a renewed creation (Rom 8:18-30).

If heaven/ “the things above” is where God is most fully present, “earthly” things are those which do not reflect God’s presence (Col 3:2, 5). These are not our basic human desires, which are good; they are those harmful or excessive desires we nurture, and the actions that come from them.

For Paul, “sexual immorality” (Col 3:5) refers to harmful or excessive sexual desires, attitudes, and actions: lust, promiscuity, infidelity, idolatry, exploitation, violence. Note: this has nothing to do with sexual orientation, and nothing to do with loving and committed same-sex marriages.

Paul says that greed is a form of idolatry (Col 3:5). A desire to accumulate wealth or power is akin to worshiping another god, one who commands our allegiance—and demands that we sacrifice others along the way. We cannot serve both God and Mammon (Matt 6:24).

Anger is not in itself sin— “Be angry but do not sin,” Eph 4:26 says. But not all anger is righteous, and even righteous anger can fester into rage or malice (Col 3:8). This—harmful or excessive anger—we must guard against, for it does not bring about the righteousness or justice of God (Jas 1:20).

For Christians, “Christ is all and in all” (Col 3:11). “Christ is all”—Jesus is our Messiah and Lord, in whom we find all we need for a life of faith and hope and love. And “Christ is in all”—by the Spirit the risen Jesus is in and among all followers of Jesus, with us to the end of the age.

In our baptism—and day by day throughout the Christian life—we are remade into the image of God, that is, the image of Jesus (Col 3:9-11; see 1:15). In this renewal of God’s image, there is no distinction along lines of ethnicity, culture, language, religious expression, gender, social status…

In our baptism—and day by day throughout the Christian life—we commit to putting off habits of harm and putting on holy habits of love: compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, forbearance, and forgiveness (Col 3:12-14). This is like putting on Jesus, clothing ourselves in his character.

Love in the way of Jesus is the virtue that “binds together” all other Christian virtues (Col 3:14). It is “the more excellent way” (1 Cor 12:31). It is the greatest of the abiding virtues of faith, hope, and love (13:13). “Faith working through love” is “the only thing that matters” (Gal 5:6).

Love in the way of Jesus is the purpose of freedom for the Christian (Gal 5:13). This—loving our neighbour as if their needs were our own—sums up the entire Torah (Rom 13:8-10; Gal 5:14). It is the first of the fruit of God’s Spirit in our lives (Gal 5:22).

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Eph 5:1-2).

“The peace of Christ” can be inward peace, peace with one another, peace with God, peace within creation. It’s a full shalom.

In Col 3:15, the focus is on peace with one another: “the peace of Christ” is to “rule” or “judge” among us, being the determining factor among us as church communities.

“The word of Christ”: the gospel, the good-news story of Jesus. “Dwell”: make a home in. “You”: a collective plural. “Richly”: abundantly, in fullness.

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly”: Let the good-news story of Jesus make itself fully at home among you as a community (Col 3:16).

How does the good-news story of Jesus make itself at home among us? Through our teaching and our worship (Col 3:16). As with believers individually, so with the church collectively—we never move beyond the gospel, we never move beyond Jesus, but maturity is a deepening of life in Jesus (Col 2:6-7).

“Do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus”: do everything as if you were an envoy of Jesus, specially commissioned by him (Col 3:17). That’s a daunting task! But it is our calling as followers of Jesus: to be as Jesus to the world, especially in the way we love.

“Giving thanks to the Father” (Col 1:12). “Abounding in thanksgiving” (2:7). “Be thankful” (3:15). “Giving thanks to God the Father through Jesus” (3:17). “Devote yourselves to prayer, in thanksgiving” (4:2).

Gratitude—and the basic contentment that comes with it—is essential to the Christian life.

Col 3:18-4:1 is a “household code,” similar to the better known one in Eph 5:22-6:9. How should we read these for today?

Household codes, following Aristotle’s example, reinforced patriarchal norms to maintain order and stability in society. In following household codes, the early Christians were reassuring the powers-that-be that Christianity was not a threat to the social order.

Why was this needed? Because Christianity *was* a threat to the social order. After all, Jesus is Lord, not Caesar. And all that “brother/sister” language for fellow believers, and not promoting marriage, de-centered the biological family. The first Christians were not about “family values.”

(By the way, for more on that idea—that the earliest Christians were not “family values”—see my blog post here.)

Yet even the Pauline household codes pushed against the patriarchy: according to Col and Eph, the patriarch of the household had significant obligations to household members, outlined using Christian language of love and equity, reflecting Jesus’ Lordship.

Ephesians’ household code begins by calling on all Christians—including patriarchs—to “submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Eph 5:21). Both refer to one of Paul’s axioms: “There is no partiality with God”—God views all people on equal footing (Eph 6:9; Col 3:25).

So how should we read these for today? Christians should always be pushing toward greater equity and egalitarianism. Always. These household codes show us how the early Christians strove to do that, pushing against patriarchal norms even while, at times, having to live within them.

Christians must work against human enslavement, in all its forms. Yet Paul’s words to Christian slaves in his day are good words for all of us as Christians in our work: “Whatever task you do, work as for the Lord and not for humans. You serve the Lord Christ” (Col 3:23-24).

“There is no partiality” with God (Col 3:25); this is one of Paul’s axioms (Rom 2:11; Gal 2:6; Eph 6:9). God regards each person equally, through the eyes of love, regardless of their ethnicity, culture, religion, gender, age, socio-economic status—or any other social distinction we might make.

“Devote yourselves to prayer, with thanksgiving” (Col 4:2).

“Persevere in prayer” (Rom 12:12).

“Pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess 5:17-18).

Regular, persistent prayer—with thanksgiving—is a fundamental reality of the Christian life. It’s the air we breathe.

I’ll say it again: for Paul “the word” is not the Bible—it’s the gospel, the good-news story of Jesus, “the mystery of Christ” (Col 4:3). As Christians may we all—through our words and through our deeds—”reveal” this mystery clearly (4:4).

Christians: “Conduct yourselves wisely toward outsiders… Let your speech always be gracious” (Col 4:5-6).

I’ll say it again for those in the back of the social media room: Christians are called to let our speech always be gracious toward those who are not Christians.

Gracious. Always.

The ends of Paul’s letters are often skipped over, but in some ways they’re the most interesting parts (e.g. Col 4:7-18). It’s there that we learn about Paul’s coworkers and we get a window onto his closest relationships. We can even glimpse God at work behind the scenes of the NT.

“Onesimus, the faithful and beloved brother, who is one of you” (Col 4:9). This is the same Onesimus who is the runaway slave from Philemon, for whom Paul in that letter advocates. He is to be received “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother” (Philmn 16).

The Colossians have received instructions about “Mark the cousin of Barnabas”; they are to welcome him if he comes (Col 4:10). This is the same Mark that Paul didn’t want to bring along on his second missionary journey (Acts 15:36-39). A reconciliation behind the scenes of the New Testament.

“My coworkers for the kingdom of God” (Col 4:11). As Christians, this is what we are called to be and to do: working together in Jesus’ way of love to see God’s reign come on earth as it is in heaven, God’s reign of true justice and lasting peace and flourishing life for all people.

“Luke, the beloved physician” (Col 4:14). This is the traditional author of the third Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles. We have no solid way of confirming this, but there’s also no good reason to doubt this tradition.

“Nympha and the church in her house” (Col 4:15). Women served as patrons, deacons, teachers, and even apostles in the early church (see Rom 16:1-7). However we understand prohibitions against women having authority (e.g. 1 Tim 2:12), in practice women had much authority—and should still have.

Paul wrote a letter to the Laodiceans, yet we don’t have such a letter (Col 4:16). Was this lost? Or was it, perhaps, the letter to Philemon, or to the Ephesians? Regardless, we know of at least two other letters Paul wrote which have been lost to us, to the Corinthians (see 1 Cor 5:9; 2 Cor 2:3-4).

“I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand” (Col 4:18). Common practice: hire a scribe to prepare the papyrus and ink, take notes, and write out the letter. The author, then—if able—would write a short greeting in their hand. In Gal 6:11 Paul contrasts his large writing with that of the scribe.

“Grace be with you” (Col 4:18). Paul normally ends his letters with a benediction such as this, often longer. “Grace” is Paul’s shorthand for the unearned gifts of God, given to us in Jesus, given through the presence of the Spirit.

Grace be with you, my friends.

© Michael W. Pahl

What is Christianity 101?

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I recently posted this online:

A social media post with this text: "Christians believe that every person is created in God's image—no exceptions. Christians believe that we are to love every neighbour as ourselves—no exceptions. This is Christianity 101. It sure feels like a lot of Christians need to go back and re-learn the basics."

It got me thinking: what is Christianity 101? In other words, what are the basics that every Christian should know and live out?

It’s not a new reflection for me. Along the way I’ve taught plenty of “Intro to Christianity” type courses in academic contexts, along with my share of catechism or baptismal preparation-type classes in churches. I’ve even written a short intro to Christian theology from a biblical theological angle—most of which I still agree with. 😜

But at this time in my life—after 30+ years of Christian academic and church ministry—and at this moment in time—in the shadow of fascism’s resurgence, in an era of increasing distrust and polarization, in a climate-changing world, a democracy-precarious world, and so on and so on—what should every Christian know and live out?

A quadrilateral of thoughts—which would make for a great four-session series…

First, Jesus.

Christianity 101 starts with Jesus—he is, after all, the very image of God, God’s message made flesh, as well as the only foundation for our faith and for the church. Put another way, there’s a reason why Jesus’ name, or a title for Jesus, is on every page of the New Testament.

A basic Christian understanding of Jesus should include a familiarity with the stories and teachings of Jesus in the Gospels. It should include an appreciation of the larger significance of the key episodes in Jesus’ life, and his core teachings. It should include a grasp of the scope of basic Christian confessions like “Jesus is the Christ” and “Jesus is Lord.” It should include a commitment to follow Jesus as Christ and Lord, following in his way of love leading to justice and peace and life.

Second, God.

If Jesus is on every page of the New Testament, God is there at least as often. In fact, the story of Jesus is presented in the New Testament as a story about God, about what God is up to in the world. And Jesus himself had much to say about these things.

A basic Christian understanding of God should include a recognition of God as Creator, both distinct from creation and intimately involved in it—with the strong implication that creation is good, and loved by God. It should include a recognition of God as Saviour or Redeemer—the One who, ultimately, delivers us from our ways of harm and restores us to goodness and life and justice and peace. It should include reflection on the triune nature of God, at the very least that God acts in the world through Jesus by the Spirit and that we come to God and experience God through Jesus by the Spirit.

Third, faith.

The call to faith in God is persistent through the Christian Scriptures, carrying through the New Testament. This is not merely a call to believe certain things about God, though there are such things (see above for some of them). Rather, biblical faith is much more about a personal trust in God, an entrusting of ourselves into God’s care, come what may. It’s also a call to commitment or even allegiance—as Christians we are to follow God’s ways above any other ways, and these ways are the ways of Jesus, the ways of the Spirit.

This faith in God, this devotion to God, this love of God, is expressed and nurtured in certain ways. Christianity 101 would begin to nurture some of these ways of faith, including prayer, worship, solitude, community, study, service, simplicity, generosity, and more. And the greatest of these is…

Fourth, love.

Ferdinand Hodler, The Good Samaritan

The call to love is also persistent through the Christians Scriptures, and especially in the New Testament. This is also the primary “way of God, way of Jesus, way of the Spirit” in which we are to live. It is the primary expression of a genuine Christian faith. It is the primary characteristic of those who claim to follow Jesus.

This basic Christian love is not merely affection, tolerance, respect, or simple kindness—though it includes those attitudes and actions which are commonly called “love.” Basic Christian love is, as one should expect, love in the way of Jesus.

Jesus called his followers to love both neighbours and enemies, and he told stories about and lived out this neighbour-enemy love. It’s an open-hearted, open-armed, open-handed love, giving generously of one’s self. It sees each person as one created in God’s image and loved by God. It’s a practical care for the needs of others, as if their needs were our own—and especially those most in need, most vulnerable to harm. It’s a readiness to forgive when harmed, even when it’s hard. It’s a willingness to stand in solidarity with the harmed, even at great personal sacrifice. It is this way of love that leads to true justice, lasting peace, and flourishing life for all, and all God’s creation.

Jesus. God. Faith. Love.

It’s a quadrilateral of basic Christianity, within which there is plenty of room for lifelong, expansive growth.

© Michael W. Pahl

“God is on the throne.” What does this even mean?

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“God is on the throne.”

The saying gets pulled out any time something happens that isn’t to our liking. A roadblock in a relationship. A cancer diagnosis. An unwanted election result.

“Don’t worry. God is still on the throne.”

It’s well-meaning, intended to bring comfort when hard things happen. It’s equivalent to “God is sovereign.” Or more directly: “God is in control.”

“God is in control.” That’s getting to the heart of what most people seem to mean when they say, “God is on the throne” or “God is sovereign.” All these are intended to suggest that God controls the circumstances in our lives, that things only happen because God decrees that they happen, or at least that God allows them to happen.

There are certainly texts in the Bible that suggest this way of thinking about God. Psalms that lyrically portray fire and hail, snow and ice arriving at God’s very command (Psa 148:8). Proverbs that sagely profess that every decision derived from casting lots (like throwing a dice) is from God (Prov 16:33). Prophets that poetically proclaim words of God like this:

I am the Lord, and there is no other.
I form light and create darkness,
I make weal and create woe;
I the Lord do all these things. (Isa 45:6-7)

But it doesn’t take much reflection to problematize this view of God. What kind of loving God is it who allows or even decrees evil things to happen, especially to good people? Or, another angle on this problem: how can we reconcile this evil-decreeing or evil-allowing God with other passages of Scripture, like the statement that it is “the thief” who comes “to steal and kill and destroy,” not God, whose Son brings “life, and life abundantly” (John 10:10)?

Or, perhaps most to the point: if “God is love” (1 John 4:8, 16), how can this God be party to any harm against others, which is the antithesis of love (Rom 13:10)?

It seems some choices need to be made as to which biblical texts we start and end with, which ones will control our interpretation of other texts. And as I do this, I can’t help but conclude that God is not in control of all things.

For this, I look primarily to none other than Jesus, and the prayer he taught his disciples. If we are to pray, “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt 6:10), this presumes that at present God’s will is not being done on earth, at least not fully. No, God is not in control of all things, and no, God is not the author of evil, or even its passive partner. God is, indeed, love.

So let’s go back to “God is on the throne.” This is a metaphor—“God is sovereign” is another version of the metaphor. And the metaphor is this: God is comparable to a king or queen, ruling over their realm from their throne.

Makes sense. The basic metaphor is not hard to grasp.

But here’s the thing—there is no king or queen who, in their sovereign rule, controls all the things that happen in their realm. That’s not the point of declaring their sovereignty. It’s not the point of saying, “The king (or queen) is on the throne.”

Rather, the point is this: because the monarch is on the throne, because they are sovereign in their realm, all within their realm owe their allegiance to them. Those under their sovereignty are not controlled by them. Rather, they owe their fealty to them, and are called upon to obey their will.

“God is on the throne,” then, is not equivalent to “God is in control.” Instead, it’s more like “God is in charge.”

Yes, “God is on the throne.” Yes, “God is sovereign.” But this doesn’t mean God controls everything that happens, or even that God allows all things to happen, and especially not all this world’s death and destruction, degradation and devastation.

Rather, to claim that “God is on the throne” or “God is sovereign” means that God calls us to allegiance to God and God’s ways, which is allegiance to Jesus as God’s Messiah and Jesus’ way of love (Matt 28:18-20). Which means that God calls us to resist the reign of sin and death and evil and injustice as it is in the world, to instead “seek first God’s reign and God’s justice” (Matt 6:33), praying, longing, working for “God’s reign to come, God’s will to be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt 6:10).

Is God present with us in all things, even poverty and sickness and death, even injustice and evil? Absolutely (Heb 13:5-6).

Does God work through all things, even suffering and sin, to bring about God’s good purposes? Most definitely (Rom 8:28-30).

These are tremendous promises of God, growing out of the goodness of the God who is love. But God does not control all things, for God neither decrees nor allows evil to happen. Rather, God calls us to allegiance to God as revealed in Jesus and his way of love, resisting the forces of sin and death, evil and injustice.

And it is when we walk in this way of faith and hope and love that we can have the full assurance of God’s faithful presence always with us and God’s good purposes ultimately worked out for us.

© Michael W. Pahl

I’m fully affirming. How can I support non-affirming churches?

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I get this question a lot.

I am fully affirming of LGBTQ+ people and support equal marriage. That’s no secret. I made a video describing my “conversion” on this (it’s soooo 2020 🙄, but still gets at the essence of my thinking on this), and this video has made the rounds in Mennonite Church circles. (I’ve learned not to be surprised when I’m in another province and someone comes up to me and says, “Thank you for that video…”)

However, in my role as executive minister of a regional church denomination, most of the congregations I serve are not affirming, and many of those may never become affirming.

And so, very understandably, people ask the question: “You’re fully affirming. How can you support non-affirming churches?” In a surprising show of unity, it’s a question I get asked by people on both “sides”—for different reasons, of course. So here’s my attempt to describe how I hold these seemingly contradictory things together.

Here’s a strong personal conviction of mine: affirming queer people and supporting equal marriage is a faithful expression of the gospel of Jesus Christ. In fact, I would say it more strongly: I think this is a more faithful expression of the gospel than a non-affirming view. For reasons why I think this, you can check out that dated video (or the accompanying written materials).

However, here’s another strong personal conviction of mine: congregations need to discern together how they are going to faithfully live out the gospel of Jesus Christ in their context. That’s a congregational prerogative and responsibility—and it’s not up to the denomination to determine.

In our polity, congregations come together voluntarily to create regional churches, covenanting together to support each other and do wider ministry together. Yes, we come together around some common values—especially Anabaptist values such as centering on Jesus, nurturing community, and working toward peace—but how these core values get worked out locally is up to each congregation to discern together.

Congregational autonomy and discernment is not just something stated in our denominational constitution which I must follow, though that is true; it is also a strong conviction of mine. It’s not difficult for me to allow congregations to discern differently than I would about how they should live out the gospel in their context; it’s to be expected, since I don’t live in their context.

Let me share another strong personal conviction of mine, however: while I don’t expect congregations to discern in alignment with my own convictions around queer affirmation and inclusion, I do expect congregations to strive to show Jesus’ love for all who are marginalized and mistreated—and this so often includes LGBTQ+ people. Jesus’ way of love is an open-hearted, open-handed, open-armed self-giving for the good of the other, for the good of all—and this includes our queer siblings in Christ and neighbours in the world.

This means that regardless of what a congregation discerns about whether queer folks can become members or Sunday school teachers or pastors, or whether they will marry two people of the same biological sex, I will always exhort our congregations to treat LGBTQ+ people among them and around them with humility, grace, and compassion. I will call on our congregations to speak of queer people with respect and empathy, and to offer as much welcome and inclusion of LGBTQ+ people as their communally discerned “position” allows. (As an aside, a congregation formally adopting an affirming position is no guarantee that they will actually treat queer people any differently. My comments here truly apply to all our congregations.)

I fully realize that, for many queer Christians and allies, this is not enough. They believe affirmation is a direct expression of the gospel, and not simply a matter for congregational discernment. They believe this is a matter of justice, that we must push through the injustice of this inequality and aim for full affirmation and inclusion. I get that, and I often feel the frustration.

But the reality is that I cannot force congregations to become affirming even if I wanted to (see above), and, even if I could, not every congregation would become affirming. And in every one of these congregations, LGBTQ+ Christians would continue to worship and fellowship and serve, remaining in non-affirming churches for a variety of personal reasons. My desire to see these flesh-and-blood siblings in Christ treated with as much compassion and care as possible outweighs my desire for a general justice—especially when there are affirming church options among us for those who need them.

The upshot of all this is that in my role as executive minister in service of the church, I can and do in good conscience support each of our congregations, regardless of their discernment around LGBTQ+ affirmation and inclusion. Regardless of the church, regardless of the need, I come to the congregation with open hands and an open heart, ready to support them as they seek to follow Jesus in their community.

And regardless of the church, regardless of their discerned position on queer affirmation and inclusion, I will always push for us to grow in our Christlike love—open-hearted, open-handed, open-armed, self-giving love—for all those among us and around us, especially those often mistreated and marginalized, including our queer siblings and neighbours.

© Michael W. Pahl

What Is Love?

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What is love?

In our world, “love” can mean anything from attachment to admiration, from affection to attraction. For some, “love” is a painful word, carrying the trauma of past abuse.

Christians talk a lot about love, but we all know Christians whose “love” doesn’t look much like Jesus. What is Jesus’ way of love?

Jesus says the greatest commandment in the Torah is to “love God”—a command that has been used to justify all kinds of things. But Jesus pairs “love God” with “love your neighbour”: we show our love for God most purely when we love our neighbour as if their needs were our own.

And then Jesus goes on to define our neighbour not only as “those who are with us, those who are like us,” but as anyone we come across in need, even if they are “stranger” and “other.” Indeed, we may be surprised to learn that the “other” often shows neighbour love to us.

But Jesus pushes this further, commanding us to “love your enemies“—not simply those who disagree with us, but those who actively oppose us, even wishing us harm. We do this, Jesus says, by treating them with kindness even as we nonviolently resist the evil they perpetuate.

Love in the way of Jesus is open-armed and open-handed. It approaches another person as a child of the Creator, welcoming them in peace. It is generous with others, especially those who have a need we can meet. Their needs are as our needs.

Love in the way of Jesus, then, pays special attention to those who are considered “least” or “lost” or “last” in this world: the poor, the sick, the outcast. It seeks out these beloved children of God. It stands with them even in suffering, even in shame, even unto death.

Love in the way of Jesus is attachment, it is affection. It is all that is good in the love that we know in the world. But it is also action, an active, dedicated compassion on behalf of the other, for their good and for the common good.

Love in the way of Jesus, then, leads to the pursuit of justice—especially on behalf of the poor, the widow, the stranger, the outcast, the sick, all those most vulnerable to harm by the powers-that-be. As Cornel West says, “Justice is what love looks like in public.”

© Michael W. Pahl

Digging Deeper into Love

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Will Braun’s three-part series in the Canadian Mennonite, “The Sweet Solace of Polarization,” is an important reminder of our calling to love one another even through our strong differences of opinion. Walking in humility, listening patiently, being gentle with each other, showing compassion—loving one another, in other words—is crucial if we truly want to live into the unity of the Spirit as the body of Christ (Eph 4:1-2).

We do have a tendency to view things in binary terms. But life is complex. Humans are complex. Human societies are complex. The church is complex. There are few if any true binaries.

As one who has been outspoken about the importance of COVID vaccinations and protections through the pandemic, I have had to learn this lesson myself. Conversations with vaccine hesitant folks have reminded me that it’s important for individuals to consult their doctor about any medical prevention or intervention. They have reminded me that behind alternative opinions are real flesh-and-blood people who have many of the same hopes and fears that I do. They have reminded me that Christians indeed share a common desire to love our neighbours, even if we don’t always agree on the best way to do that.

Nevertheless, there are more questions we should ask each other, more conversations we should have. While humility, patience, gentleness, and compassion are foundational aspects of Christian love, there is more of love to discover. We need to dig deeper into love.

At the time I write this, over 46,500 people have died in Canada because of COVID. In my province of Manitoba, one out of every 625 people has died because of this virus. COVID has disproportionately affected the elderly, racialized persons, and the immune-compromised with severe outcomes. Statistics Canada estimates that 15% of Canadians who have contracted the virus have developed “long COVID,” with symptoms lingering from a few months to potentially years after the initial infection. Some of these long-term symptoms are relatively mild, but for some people they are debilitating.

Major health-governing and research-collecting bodies like the World Health Organization continue to conclude that COVID vaccines are safe, with extremely low risk of health complications from the vaccine (a far lower risk of harm than COVID itself presents). While vaccines have not provided the “bullet-proof immunization” many of us hoped for, they do reduce the forward transmission of the virus and they significantly reduce severe outcomes for those who are vaccinated. When good masks and ventilation are added into the mix in indoor spaces, the risk of virus transmission is lessened considerably.

All this should prompt us to ask more questions of each other, to dig deeper into love.

How do we relate to “experts” as we make ethical decisions? Which “experts” do we trust, and why do we trust them and not others?

How do we relate to our “governing authorities,” to use Paul’s term in Romans 13, especially as it relates to the only debt we should owe, Paul says there, the debt to love our neighbours?

How do we balance a concern for the common good with a concern for individual freedoms, again especially as it relates to the call of Jesus to love our neighbour as if their needs were our own?

If we do accept the reports noted above regarding COVID’s impact on the most health-vulnerable in our society, what does it mean for us to love these neighbours, and how do we weigh that against any potential harms we may be concerned about from vaccines or other public health protections?

Love in the way of Jesus requires a particular posture toward one another, yes, a posture of humility, patience, gentleness, and compassion. But that is not the totality of Jesus’ way of love. His is a devoted love of God expressed pre-eminently through loving our neighbour as if their needs were ours (Matt 22:36-40). And as we see from Jesus in the Gospels, the neighbours we should pay special attention to are the sick, the poor, the stranger—all those most vulnerable to harm.

May the fullness of this love drive us forward as we navigate the complexities of the ethical decisions we face.

———————————————-

This article was published in the Canadian Mennonite (Nov. 28, 2022) as “A biblical case for vaccines.” Not only is that title inaccurate, it encourages readers to see the piece as arguing for one side in a polarized debate, and thus badly misses the point of the article. That title change was an editorial decision.

Following Christ into Catastrophe

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We seem to be constantly on the verge of impending catastrophe. COVID. Climate change. The collapse of Twitter.

That last example is a bit tongue-in-cheek, but there’s some truth in it. The collapse of Twitter (if it happens) would have significant negative impact on some people’s livelihoods, health supports, advocacy networks, and more. But it’s also true in a different way: the way people are responding to Twitter’s demise reveals some of the social dynamics at play in the larger catastrophes we face.

It seems to me there are two unhelpful responses to these catastrophes.

One is to get swept up in the tidal wave of fear and despair—the hysteria—that accompanies any perceived catastrophe. There is even a kind of “culture of catastrophe” at work in some segments of society, where our way of being in the world, even our identity in society, is determined in relation to whatever the current catastrophe is. We are required always to be in a heightened state of anxiety and urgent action—a sure-fire recipe for mental ill health and societal conflict.

The other unhelpful response, though, is to downplay or even ignore the seriousness of the problem. Catastrophes do happen. Catastrophes have happened in history, and they are happening around the world. COVID and climate change are real problems. Injustice and inequity, bigotry and violence, disease and disaster, in all their forms, are real problems. To suggest otherwise is to be naïve, or even to betray our historical or geographical privilege—those living in the middle of catastrophe don’t have the option of ignoring it.

So what should we do? In particular, how should we as Christians follow Christ into catastrophe?

Well, we have some good guidance from Jesus himself in the Gospels. After all, Jesus predicted a catastrophe, and gave instructions for his followers on how to walk in that catastrophe. Let’s give a glance at Jesus’ “Apocalyptic Discourse” (yes, that’s what scholars call it) in Matthew’s Gospel.

David Roberts, The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem, Wikimedia Commons

In Matthew 24-25, Jesus describes the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, a catastrophe which happened roughly 40 years after Jesus. (For a few historical-critical thoughts on this, see below.*) Jesus sets this catastrophe in the context of even wider catastrophes: wars, natural disasters, famines, plagues, and the like. And then Jesus gives some guidance for his followers on how they should walk into those catastrophes.

One word of guidance from Jesus is especially highlighted through chapter 24, summed up in this phrase: watch and pray.

“Stay awake,” Jesus says, be watchful. Be aware of what is going on, pay attention to the things that are happening and what they mean. Be ready for God’s deliverance when it comes. And pray. Pray as Jesus taught us (Matt 6:9-13). Trust in our loving God for our daily bread. Pray for salvation from the time of trial and deliverance from evil. Hope in God’s good future on the far side of the apocalypse.

Take seriously what’s going on. But don’t get caught up in the hysteria; don’t get swept up in the fear and despair. Don’t let the unfolding catastrophe determine your way of being in the world, your identity in the world. Watch and pray.

Another word of guidance is especially bought home in chapter 25, summed up this way: care for “the least” among us as the worst unfolds around us.

Jesus calls his followers to use what God has given us to invest into God’s kingdom, God’s reign of justice and peace and life. Feed the hungry, Jesus says, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, heal the sick, care for the imprisoned. In other words, continue to “seek first God’s reign and God’s justice” (Matt 6:33).

Don’t give up on this world; and especially, don’t give up on those among us most vulnerable to harm by evil forces in times of trial. Care for “the least” among us as the worst unfolds around us.

Some of us as Christians are good at not getting caught up in the hysteria of COVID or climate change or any other impending catastrophe. But then we’re often not as good at being aware of the reality of the problems, or at focusing on the most vulnerable through those problems, and those vulnerable people get harmed.

Others of us are good at being aware of the problems and, sometimes at least, centering the most vulnerable in the midst of those problems. But then we’re often not as good at prayerfully trusting in God for our present, or prayerfully hoping in God for the future, and we walk in unhealthy anxiety and inflame conflict with others who are not our enemies.

May we take Jesus’ words to heart, and follow Christ into the catastrophes of our time, walking always in faith, hope, and love, especially for those most often deemed least in our world.

———————————

*Here’s my take on the Synoptic apocalyptic discourses. There’s such a strong memory of Jesus’ predicting a future calamitous end, and even specifically the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, that I think it likely Jesus did indeed predict this. That memory is preserved not just in all four Gospels (Matt 24; Mark 13; Luke 21; John 2) but also in other NT passages (e.g. 1 Thess 4-5). And there were certainly enough signs in Jesus’ day that things were not going to end well for the Jewish people in their struggle against Roman imperial power. A Temple destruction in some not-too-distant future was also on the minds of others (see accounts in Josephus).

I also think it likely that Jesus believed the end of the age and the dawn of the coming age, the fullness of the reign of God, would come at the time of the Temple’s destruction. In this Jesus was wrong. However, the Gospel authors, all writing after the Temple’s destruction in 70 CE (Mark as a possible exception to this), still saw value in Jesus’ words. Yes, they embellished Jesus’ predictions to make them fit more directly with recent historical events (especially Luke in Luke 21:20-24), but they didn’t substantially change the tradition they had received (so they believed) from Jesus. Why is that?

One reason, I think, is simply that it confirmed Jesus as a prophet. He had predicted the Temple’s destruction, and look, it happened. But I think there’s another reason: they saw in Jesus’ words continuing guidance for them in the midst of the wider “catastrophes” he highlighted. Wars, natural disasters, famines, and plagues continued, along with false prophets and false messiahs and opposition and even persecution of Jesus’ followers. While Jesus’ return and the fulfillment of God’s reign was transferred to some unknown future, we still live in this “time between the times” where all these calamitous events take place. We need Jesus’ guidance on how to live in these ongoing days of evil.

© Michael W. Pahl

My Faith Story

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On September 4, 2022, I shared my faith story with my congregation as part of the process of transferring my membership from my previous congregation. Here is what I shared.

If I were to sum up my faith journey in a phrase, it might be this: “Pursuing Jesus who first found me.”

I grew up in a conservative evangelical environment, nominally Anabaptist. I knew my Bible. I knew about Jesus. But I didn’t know Jesus.

In my university days I went on a spiritual quest. I checked out other religions—Hinduism and Buddhism fascinated me for a while. I actively participated in a different church every year of university: Pentecostal, United Church, Lutheran, Baptist. I was baptized in that Baptist church.

Along the way I had a profound spiritual experience that pushed me back to the Bible. I read it like I’d never read it before, in huge chunks: all of Isaiah in one sitting, all of Luke and Acts in another, all of Genesis in a morning, all of John in an afternoon, Romans before bed. I gorged on Scripture.

And that’s how I first met Jesus. I read the Bible and I found Jesus. Or rather, Jesus found me, and I’ve pursued him ever since.

Later, when I was teaching through the New Testament at a small Christian college and working on my Ph.D., I had an epiphany: this Jesus-centred reading of Scripture had made me into an Anabaptist. By reading the Bible to follow Jesus I had become committed to Jesus’ way of nonviolence, his way of just peace, his way of community, his way of love.

And so, when I left this nondenominational college to move into pastoral ministry, it made sense to serve in a Mennonite congregation, one that was thoroughly Anabaptist.

That was 13 years ago, and our journey since then has brought us from Alberta to Ohio to Manitoba, and now into my current role as Executive Minister of Mennonite Church Manitoba, and member of Home Street Mennonite Church. I’m grateful for this congregation, for its commitment to pursue Jesus who first found us.

Last week Ingrid shared about developing a centred-set approach to church instead of a bounded-set approach. I’ve also taught that concept since first coming across missionary anthropologist Paul Hiebert’s use of this idea. And this, to me, is at the centre of this thing we call “Christianity,” and this thing we call “church”: Jesus, and Jesus’ way of love.

Jesus of Nazareth, crucified Messiah and resurrected Lord, and Jesus’ way of devotion for God expressed through compassion for others, especially those the world deems “last,” “least,” or “lost.”

We gather around Jesus and his way of love like people gathering around a bonfire on a cold, dark night. We draw close to Jesus and his love for light and warmth, and as we do so we find ourselves drawing closer to each other.

Around this fire we tell our stories, we sing our songs, we pray our prayers, we share our bread and wine. And we commit ourselves to following Jesus and his way of love as we go out into the world, carrying our candles lit with the fire of Jesus’ love.

As we go we proclaim the greatest revelation Jesus has given us: God is love. We should know this from Scripture, we should know this from observing creation around us, but in Jesus this is confirmed and clarified: God is love.

God always loves. God cannot not love. Everything God does is motivated by love and enacted in love. This means that anything we experience that is not of love is not of God. God is not the author of evil or suffering or harm.

Love is the essence of God in a way that God’s other attributes are not. God’s holiness is a holy love. God’s justice is a just love. God’s wisdom is a wise love. God’s power is a powerful love.

All is being moved by love towards God’s good purposes. Love is stronger than injustice or violence. Love is stronger than every other power. Love is stronger than death. In the end, love will win, and all will be well.

Jesus, and Jesus’ way of love, pointing us to the God who is love.

This is indeed good news.

What does it mean to say that “God is love”?

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It’s one of the foundational beliefs of Christianity: “God is love” (1 John 4:8, 16). But what does it mean to say this? Here are a few thoughts.

“God is love” means that God always loves. God cannot not love. Everything God does is motivated by love and enacted in love. This means that anything we experience that is not of love is not of God. God is not the author of evil or suffering or harm.

“God is love” means that love is at the heart of who God is. The Bible says that “God is holy,” but it never says that “God is holiness.” Love is the essence of God in a way that God’s other attributes are not. God’s holiness is a holy love. God’s justice is a just love. God’s wisdom is a wise love. God’s power is a powerful love.

“God is love” means that God’s very being is love. Which suggests there was never a time when God did not love. Which in turn suggests, in all mystery, that God is multiplicity, eternally existing in mutual love.

“God is love” means that all has been created in love. As all things exist out of the overflow of God’s being, so all things exist out of the overflow of God’s love.

“God is love” means that all that is not-love is not-God; it is anti-God. This, then, is “sin”: thinking and acting and speaking out of apathy or antipathy, causing harm to others, ourselves, or other creatures, and thus grieving the God who is love. And this is “death”: dying, or even living, in the consequences of this non-love.

“God is love” means that all is being moved by love towards God’s good purposes. Love is stronger than injustice or violence. Love is stronger than every other power. Love is stronger than death. In the end, love will win, and all will be well.

“God is love” means that Jesus is God-is-love in the flesh. Jesus shows us what God’s love looks like: an open-handed, open-hearted, open-armed love, a love especially for those who need it most, those considered “last” or “least” or “lost.” This love, for neighbours, for strangers, even for enemies.

“God is love” means that you are beloved by God. This is your most basic identity: God’s Beloved. And this is true of each and every person, every creature, all of creation.

“God is love” means that when you are at your lowest, or your loneliest, you are never alone. There is a Presence always with you, embracing you in their love.

“God is love” means that when you are at your worst, and you know it, or when you have done your worst, and you know it, there is One who is already moving toward you, to forgive you and restore you, to make you whole.

“God is love” means that God is calling us into a Beloved Community, a society of friends where peace with justice prevails over violence and injustice, where love and trust triumphs over fear and hatred. It means that, ultimately, God is moving all things toward a Peaceable Kingdom, God’s vision of true justice and lasting peace and flourishing life for all creation.

Then God, who is love, will be all in all.

© Michael W. Pahl